The Monster in My Bed
by Stelra Etnae
Summary: Remus John Lupin was just five-years-old going on six. And he had a secret he didn't understand.


**_Written for Cheeky Slytherin Lass's Fanfiction Tournament Competition on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum._**

 ** _Theme 3 (Round One): Childhood_**

 ** _(Because of course I would take a wonderfully innocent prompt and turn it into deep angst)_**

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 **The Monster in My Bed**

Remus John Lupin was five-years-old going on six. A healthy and well-mannered young boy, if somewhat shy; he had a father and mother who loved him dearly, living in a modest single-storey house with a cobbled driveway and potted flowers in the garden. A very pleasant family the Lupins were, the neighbours all agreed, smiling as they nodded. A little odd at times, particularly the father, but very polite. Quite unremarkable.

But the Lupins had a secret. It was a secret that settled a deep sorrow in Lyall's eyes; lent a hint of despair to Hope's smile. It was a secret of blood, tears and a single night, a single moment that turned something as beautiful as the moon into a curse of horror.

Remus was just five going on six.

And he had a secret he didn't understand.

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As Remus slowly came back to himself, he first became conscious of the pain that ran in shivers through his body, burning through his flesh and freezing in his bones. It hurt no matter whether he shifted or stayed still, and involuntarily his breath hitched in a sob that only made the pain worse. Tears slipped past his closed eyelids, hot moisture stinging his cheeks.

It took him a longer while to finally reach past that to the sensations around him. He could feel the staccato beat of someone else's heart beating in tandem with his, and he instinctively focused on that to take his mind off the pain, used it as an anchor. Slowly he became aware of the warm arms cradled around his body and the familiar gentle hands running in soothing motions through his hair. He leaned closer into his mother's warmth, listened to the calming rhythm of her heartbeat.

He gradually became aware of something else as well, of the uncontrolled trembling of the body held against his and the sensation of wetness against his cheek that was not his own.

He opened his eyes slowly, the soft glow of dawn filtering into his vision. They were in his bedroom, the first morning rays shining through a gap in his half-drawn curtains. No, not half-drawn – the light was shining through a large rip in the dark blue fabric, a ragged unnatural tear. The room was strangely bare as well, the wardrobe that usually stood in the corner and the desk next to the window conspicuously absent, leaving only his bed which he lay in, cradled in his mother's lap.

Another hot droplet fell against his cheek, escaping from the cluster of tears hanging on Hope Lupin's lashes as she wept in quiet, shivering sobs.

"Mama, don't cry…" he called, but the words came out scratchy and with barely any sound, like that time when he had caught a bad cold falling into the creek in winter.

Hope Lupin started, orienting to him at the faint sound of his voice nonetheless. "Remus," she whispered, voice hoarse and weak as well. She bit her lip to stifle her tears, but to no avail. "Oh Remus, my baby… My brave, brave boy…"

He wanted to reach up to wipe her tears away but his arms were so heavy. The pain still there, faintly numb now but still thrumming beneath the surface.

He coughed, throat raw in a way that brought fresh tears to his eyes. A cup of water was held up to his lips, the cool fluid a temporary balm. A large wand-calloused hand cradled the back of his head, thumb smoothing down his hair in soft circular motions. Remus turned his head the small fraction that he could to look up at his father, whose eyes flickered with a myriad of emotions. Sorrow, hopelessness, and an emotion that Remus would only much later identify as regret.

Tears continued to fall from his mother's eyes, her hand in his hair moving down to caress his face. Gently, so gently, as if she feared he would break.

Would he?

"Mama… am I going to die?" he asked in a small voice, unable to completely keep the tremble from it. Remus knew a little bit about death – Grandma had told him that his Grandpa was high up in the sky, watching over all of them from the stars. But stars were so far away, and the night sky always seemed so cold. His bottom lip wobbled. He didn't want to become a star.

His words brought more tears to his mother's eyes, moisture slipping past her lashes down the tracks on her cheeks as she choked in a sob. But the light in Hope Lupin's eyes also strengthened, the fierceness of a mother defending her child, and when she spoke her voice only shook a tiny bit.

"No, darling. You're not going to die. I know it hurts, but you must stay strong, alright? Can you be strong for Mama and Daddy?"

Remus nodded, latching onto that request with quiet determination. He could be strong, and brave, just like his father. Daddy had been in Gryffindor, the House of the courageous and brave, and Remus loved listening to his stories from school. Mama hadn't gone to Hogwarts, but Remus was sure she would have been a Gryffindor as well if she had. Remus hoped that he could be a Gryffindor as well, when it was his turn to go to Hogwarts.

His mother pressed a soft kiss to his sweaty brow, eyes still glistening but a smile finally wavering through her tears, shaky though it was. "My dear brave boy. Sleep now, and rest for a bit. We can have breakfast a little late today and I'll make your favourites."

"Chocolate chip pancakes?" he said hopefully.

She chuckled, smoothing back his damp hair from his forehead. "Of course."

Remus fell asleep to his mother's sweet singing voice, head pillowed in her lap as her hands carded softly through his hair. He didn't hear her voice catch in a sob, his father pulling her close to whisper quiet reassurances in her hair that neither of them believed.

The same pattern repeated itself the following month, and the month after that, and Remus learnt to recognize the waning and waxing of the moon in the aches and anguish in his bones. He grows familiar with the scent of tears clinging in the air, only half-hidden under the sweet fragrance of chocolate and buttery pancakes.

Remus was just five-years-old going on six. And he was beginning to understand that nothing was going to be the same again.

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 ** _Reviews are very much appreciated!_**


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